Mr. Churchill's Secretary (43 page)

She helped him with his coat, scarf, and hat, and then sent him on his way. The door clicked closed and she waited as the sound of his footsteps receded.

Then she picked up the white Bakelite receiver and dialed. “Yes,” she whispered into the telephone, “I have something you’ll want to see. I’m leaving for London now. Should be there in a few hours, give or take. Yes, of
course
I’ll use an alias.”

Then, “I love you too, darling.”

Claridge’s hotel in London was a large red-brick building located in fashionable Mayfair, still elegant despite the removal of all of its lavish wrought-iron railings, which had been taken down to be melted for munitions. After her long train trip in the blackout, Victoria was grateful to check in, under an assumed name, and retire to a warm, damask-swathed room, worlds away from the shabby indignities of Bletchley.

After placing the decrypts carefully on the bed, she went into the marble bathroom and drew a bath, noticing that Claridge’s had “forgotten” the five-inch watermark for hot water rationing. She turned on the tap and out poured a scalding stream, to which she added a liberal handful of sandalwood-scented Hammam Bouquet bath salts. She sighed as she undressed, then slipped her long and elegant limbs into the bath, reclining against the slanted back of the tub. Benjamin was just such an easy target. He was lovely, really. It wasn’t his fault, the poor dear.…

The front door clicked open, then closed quietly. With the water still running, Victoria didn’t hear it. Then
there was a loud thud. “Darling, is that you?” she called, lifting her head.

There was a silence, then the bathroom door creaked open.

“Darling?” Victoria called, sitting up in the tub. “You? No, not
you
!”

The shot went directly between her eyes. She slumped back into the bath, bright red blood streaming down her face and into the water, turning the froth pink and then crimson. As her pale slim body slipped down under the bubbles, her mouth fell open into a perfect
o
of surprise.

SUSAN
ELIA M
AC
NEAL
is the author of the Maggie Hope mysteries, including her debut novel,
Mr. Churchill’s Secretary
, and the upcoming
Princess Elizabeth’s Spy
. She lives in Brooklyn, New York, with her husband and child.